The Key to Shar'Lathel
by cris34b
Summary: (Note, only one Harry Potter character is used in this story. In fact, this story takes place in another world.) In a world known as Algaria where magic is used by everyone from the peasants to the Archemagi, Rorick, son of the spirit Hermione, must work to save a world whose gods have been locked away to a world all their own.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The sun rose over what, from above, appeared to be paradise. "Shar'Lathel," the mortals whispered. "Land of the Gods." Yet, what is paradise if you share it with only seven others? Salren scoffed at this. _Some god I am. All the power in the universe and I can't use it to help a soul._ _Now I've done it… I've gotten a world all to myself, and I'm already bored of it._ Salren flew through the air, looking down with disdain upon his empty world. The only sounds were those of the animals, and of explosions off far in the distance.

As Eltram walked along the abandoned streets of the greatest city in the seven realms, he longed to leave, to enter the worlds of mortals once more, and to be a god in full. But now, with the Gates sealed, there was nothing for him to do but wait. As he walked, a small shadow passed near him and was gone. Looking up, he saw Salren flying above. Jumping from the ground, Eltram flew to join him.

"Salren!"

Salren looked down, and saw, to his great surprise, Eltram. "Eltram? It's been a long time since I've last seen you." Eltram frowned for a moment before responding. "Long may pass in the Land of Gods without a soul to be seen."

Salren chuckled. "I've yet to see one."

A look of confusion passed over Eltram.

"A soul?"

"A god."

Eltram's sorrow increased at his words. "You wish to leave too?"

Salren chuckled. "I wish to have never here come in the first place. Eltram, we are gods! All powerful, and worshipped by millions! Yet, day by day, I feel more and more like a dream. As if my whole life is an illusion of the grandest scale, and I am the pun at the end of this joke." Eltram sighed, and by the look on his face, it was obvious he felt very much the same.

"Perhaps we can contact Kalecthos, get him to re-open the Gate. He couldn't say no to both of us, Salren."

"Couldn't he? Think about it, Eltram. Kalecthos isn't the one keeping the Gate closed. It's the mortals, stuck as they are in their stubborn ways, that do this. You know the prophecies better than I. The Gates will not open till Magic is free in Algaria, and even then, not unless the Ninth God's creation is prevented."

"I fear the mortals will have a much worse time of things than we ever have, Salren. A king and a god as their enemy, all of magic on the line… I fear for them, for all of us."

"What would you be if you didn't?"

"A god."

Salren sighed at Eltram's words, yet found himself agreeing. _Not exactly happy words to greet eternity with…_


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Rorick awoke to the sun shining through his curtain of vines and onto his face. He lazily rolled from his mat, standing on the cold stone floor of his cave home. As he dressed for the morning, a small rat ran through the cave as if on a mission. It grabbed Rorick's shoes and dragged them over to him, one at a time. "Thanks, Skreet." Rorick patted the little rodent's head before lacing on his shoes and taking a look around.

The cave he lived in was more of an overhanging rock with a curtain of vines in front. Its back wall was pockmarked with small holes in the wall, in which could be found little glowing crystals. A stream meandered just outside the curtain, causing several deciduous trees to grow, not a few of them magical. A circle of rocks in the cave's center was filled with wood, ready for a fire, and a small sleeping mat, woven of grasses sat near the back wall. Set into the cave's wall was a small copper door, roughly two feet tall, strangely out of place. Near the door was a small shelf carved into the stone, on which lay several tools and dishes.

Rorick walked to the back wall of the cave, reaching to grab one of the crystals from the stone pocket. He pointed it at his already prepared fire pit, squeezing the small pressure points in the crystal. A beam of concentrated solar heat shot from the crystal and hit the pit, igniting the fire, the glow from the crystal dimming visibly. Rorick grinned at Skreet. "First try. I'm getting pretty good at this." He replaced the crystal into its pocket where it began to slowly grow brighter.

Rorick walked back to the copper door. Opening it revealed a hollow a pace deep. Several pieces of frozen meat lay within, scattered among them, herbs glowing with a frosty blue aura. Rorick took out a good sized de-feathered bird and closed the door, the aura of frost each herb gave off abruptly cut off by the metal.

Pulling a small metal grate out from beneath the woven grass mat, Rorick waited until the fire was mostly coals before putting meat and grate over the heat to cook. As the sound of sizzling became more audible, Skreet ran through the curtain of vines, looking expectantly at Rorick. He chuckled before pulling a small piece from the now cooked meat and handing it to the rat. Pulling the rest from the fire, he set it on a dish from the nearby shelf of rock and began to eat. He ate in silence, greeted only by the sound of his chewing and the crackling of the fire.

Before he could finish his food, a voice cut through the air of the forest, closer to Rorick's home than he'd prefer. "Hello? Is someone there?" Rorick cursed silently, not daring to move lest he make a noise. "Hello? I saw smoke. Who's out there?" Rorick looked at his still burning fire and cursed again, this time aloud. _It will lead him right to me._

At his curse, a small metal staff parted the vines just in front of Rorick. An elderly man poked his face in, and Rorick calmed. It was only Thelmar.

Thelmar was from the nearby town of Thallanar Valley. He made his living as a Wizard, and was one of the few from the town whom Rorick trusted. "Rorick?" Thelmar asked, looking puzzled. "What are you doing here?"

Rorick looked at him, mirroring his shock. "What am _I_ doing here? I live here. The question is, what are _you_ doing out here?"

"I've already said. I saw smoke and came looking. I had no idea anyone lived out here." Thelmar let the statement hang like a question, then turned his attention to the cave. _So this is where he lives? In a cave? Poor boy. _

Rorick saw the look of pity pass over Thelmar's face. "Don't be getting all gooey on me, old man. I'm perfectly fine out here." Thelmar chuckled. "I suppose you are, aren't you? May I…?" Thelmar was gesturing to the fire.

"Oh, of course, make yourself at home."

Thelmar sat, looking around curiously.

"So, Rorick, how have you been doing? I haven't seen you around Thallanar recently."

"I look fine, don't I?" As he spoke, Skreet walked up to Thelmar and nibbled curiously on the ends of the man's robes.

"What do we have here…? This rat has a Compulsion on it. You did this?"

"I did. That's Skreet."

"Skreet, huh? Well, tell me, Rorick, how did you learn to cast a Compulsion?"

"My mother taught me."

"Your mother?" Thelmar asked. "But I thought you were an orphan!"

"I am."

"Then how could your mother have taught you?"

Rorick grinned mischievously. "My mother is Hermione. She's the guardian spirit over this valley. A long time ago, she met my father and they fell in love. She took a physical form for the time being, but faded back to normal when he died. You know she didn't start out in our world either? I didn't until recently, but it turns out she was one of the few people on Earth with magic." Mentioning his dad seemed to have dampened Rorick's mood somewhat.

"Ah, I see. Did she teach you anything else?"

"Generalized magics, forestry, and a lot of nature magic."

Thelmar chuckled lightly. "She's made a druid of you." His voice held an accusation.

"She has not!"

Thelmar nodded tauntingly before glancing out the vines. He slowly turned back to face Rorick. "Well, I must go now. Be careful Rorick. The forest is a dangerous place."

"One I've lived in all my life, Thelmar."

"Yet with new dangers every day." With those final words, Thelmar stood and walked through the curtain of vines, passing from Rorick's view.

As he left, Thelmar looked at the wildlife outside Rorick's cave. He spotted some Shadling ferns growing in the shade near the cave's edge. But instead of their normal transparency, the plants grew in almost entirely visible. A small look of disgust passing over his face, Thelmar made his way around the other side of the cave, walking back to Thallanar.

Derrin hid in the shadows outside of Rorick's cave, calming his breathing. It had been close. Thelmar had almost discovered him. _I knew I shouldn't have drawn power from the Shadling. How could I be so stupid? _

Derrin was a Leech, a sort of wizard that, through many dark magics, twisted their own magic pool into something else. Now, instead of drawing on his own pool of magic, Derrin drew magic directly from others, and from the very environment around him. _The boy practically glows with untapped magical potential, and the man…_ Derrin shivered._ The king's own court wizard is but a firefly to a bonfire compared with that man. _With that unsettling thought, Derrin ran off towards the road headed for the city of Dorinthal.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Two weeks later, Rorick walked lazily along the sole dirt road leading to town, having taken a detour to the path so no one would see which direction he came from. The sun hung low in the sky, small beams of its light breaking through the canopy above. In the early morning light, Rorick found himself alone on a road which was seldom walked.

Though he usually avoided town, Rorick had reason for going today. Derrin, the strange man that visited the town every few months had suddenly returned after only two weeks away, and this time, he had been accompanied by a pair of the King's guard.

Soon, the low lumber walls of the town came into view, and with them, the sounds of a crowd. No sooner than he entered the town did he see its source. Much of the town was gathered outside, looking at Derrin and the two guards he had with him. The three appeared to be searching the town for something, and the people were not happy. The strange guards wore chainmail breastplates over which hung a grey tabard. On the tabard, three red lightning bolts braiding around each other were depicted.

Though he had never seen the tabard before, Rorick knew instantly it belonged to some sect of the military. No one had ever known Derrin to be part of the military, but there was no mistaking it now. Not with the way the guards seemed to defer to him. Rorick quickly ducked behind a group of people upon entering the town, his distrust of anything to do with the King taking over.

Closer inspection of the guards gave Rorick clues of their purpose. All of the people appeared to be arranged, not just gathered, as if the guards were identifying them. They also appeared to only be searching for places a human could hide. Another quick look at the crowd showed only Thelmar missing, he assumed they were looking for him.. Lastly, for some reason he couldn't identify, roughly an eighth of the crowd had been packed to the side and were holding packs, many of them crying.

He couldn't find a pattern in the people set aside until, as he passed by the door of the inn, a hand grabbed him and yanked him in. He was about to shout until he looked at his captor and recognized him as Thelmar. Only then did the questions spring from him.

"Thelmar, I've been looking for you, and apparently, those guards have been too. What's happening?"

Thelmar put a finger to his lips and made a shushing noise and pulling them further into the inn.

"There isn't time for questions, boy. Just know this; the guards are gathering up everyone with significant magical potential for some branch of the military they're calling 'Stormfire'. They're looking for me, and surprisingly, they know about you too. We have to go before they find us. Call it what they want, but it's a draft, and I personally have no wish to join the military. Now, if you need to grab anything from your cave, forget it. I saw one of them heading there. Tell me what you need from there and I'll Call it here."

Rorick simply sat stunned for a few moments before responding. "I'll need my pack and all of its contents, my rat, Skreet, and a golden necklace with a small emerald that I keep under my mat." At the mention of the last item, Thelmar's face took on a look of suspicion, but Rorick responded quickly. "It was a gift from my mother." Thelmar nodded and pulled out two small pouches. From the first he pulled a handful of various very small gems which glowed softly. From the look of the pouch many more were inside.

Rorick, though interested in the mechanics of a Calling, was shocked at the riches Thelmar casually pulled out, that is, until he remembered that Thelmar knew all five elemental magics, including earth. He likely grew his own gemstones.

As Thelmar waved his hand over the gems, the glow seeped out of them and drifted up to form a ball of rainbow light in the palm of his hand. A look of concentration passed over his face and he suddenly looked at his hand, simultaneously snapping his fist closed. The ball dissipated suddenly, and a ring of light formed on the floor. A moment later, Rorick's pack, Skreet, and a strange golden amulet appeared on the ground before Thelmar. Rorick scooped the pack up and put the amulet on. Skreet was tucked into an empty pocket on the edge of the pack, and they ran for the back door without another moment's hesitation.

Derrin cursed silently. He had rounded up a group of relatively weak magi, most of them untapped, and even found some with real potential, but he had lost his prizes, the old man, Thelmar, and the orphan boy Rorick. None in the village matched those two in raw power, and the man, the last time Derrin saw someone as brutally powerful and well trained as him had been when the King had met with Zeba, the Archmage. _Damnit! We were so careful. How could we have missed him? I knew two magi weren't enough. Now I've got someone on the level of an Archmage and a boy with the raw power of one on the loose._

Angry both at himself for allowing their escape, and the King for refusing him more magi, Derrin was less than gentle on the villagers. With a final shove he got those he had selected for Stormfire moving, making sure none of their family members tried anything. He pulled the magi aside and began talking to them quietly. "You," he pointed to one. "You are to escort the villagers to Dorinthal for training. As for you," he gestured to the other mage under his command, "You're coming with me; we're tracking those two down."


End file.
